The Dance
by achillespelides
Summary: Natasha Snow-Pitch is getting ready for her first school dance, so naturally, both of her fathers want to help get her ready and send her off. FAMILY FLUFF


"Dad, stop! You're rui—"

"Just hold still!"

"Dad!"

"Wait!"

Simon Snow stood behind his 16-year-old daughter, Natasha, with a hot curling iron in one hand a strip of silky black hair in the other. Miscellaneous strands of hair were curled, but poorly so. Some were very loose, others very tight. It looked chaotic, and Natasha was not having it.

"Please, stop, you're ruining it!"

"I just—" Simon stopped talking as he heard the front door close. "Oh, good your father's home."

"Thank _God,_ " Natasha mumbled under her breath. She always swore like a Normal; a side-effect of going to a Normal school. Simon found it endearing.

A moment later, Baz pushed open the door to Natasha's room and stepped inside, a mug in his hand. He was dressed in a crisp suit with his hair slicked back. He looked frighteningly beautiful. Simon lit up at the sight of him. Baz's eyes, however, didn't seem to even register Simon's presence. Instead, his eyes were locked on the mess of curls on Natasha's head. "Honey, what happened?" he said, stepping towards them and setting his mug down.

"Dad happened," Natasha grumbled, plopping her face in her hands. Baz just laughed at this, amused by the current situation. Baz slipped an arm around his husband and gave him a quick kiss. He teased Simon with his eyes, scolding him for doing this to their daughter, which only made Simon blush.

"I was just trying to do her hair the Normal way!"

"Yeah, well it seems the Normal way is making her look like a poodle that's been electrocuted," Baz smirked. He gently stroked his daughter's back, calming her down. "Don't worry, Nat, it will be fine. I'll fix this."

Natasha lifted up her head with relief and nodded enthusiastically. "Please. And fast."

Baz laughed and quickly spelled her hair into an elegant up-do. Natasha grinned into the mirror, touching the delicate curls. "Oh, it's perfect! Thank you, Father!" She squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist, but carefully, so as not to mess up her hair.

"Of course, my dear."

"Now, time for makeup?" Simon said hopefully, dangling a blush brush in his hand.

"No," Natasha and Baz said at the same time. "I think I can handle that on my own. Thanks, though." She started to apply her makeup—simple and elegant—as her fathers watched on. Baz grabbed his mug and sat down on her bed, exhausted from work. Simon joined him, leaning against his shoulder. The two sat in a comfortable silence as Natasha dusted her face with powder. "This one or this one?" she asked a few minutes later, holding up two shades of lipstick.

"The right," Baz said as Simon said, "the left!" The two men looked at each other and grinned. Well, Simon grinned. Baz, however, raised an eyebrow, asking _seriously? That color?_ Natasha laughed and went with the right one—a dark, purplish red—knowing that she should always trust Baz's fashions sense over Simon's. She finished applying her makeup and then stood up. "Okay! What time is it?"

Baz checked his watch. "6:30. What time is he coming?"

Natasha seemed to relax; she thought it was much later. "He's not coming till 7:00. I'm going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs, okay?" She crossed to her closet to pull out her dress as her parents left the room, Baz shutting the door behind her.

"She looks beautiful," Simon said as they headed down the stairs.

"I know. I can't believe she's sixteen already," Baz agreed, shaking his head. "Remember when we were sixteen?"

"You mean when we were mortal enemies who despised each other?"

"I never despised you, Snow. You just thought so," Baz said, twining his arms around Simon's waste.

"Yeah, yeah," Simon laughed, leaning in. Their noses were practically touching. "I can't believe it took us so long. I mean, what would have happened if we realized we liked each other before our last year?"

"Once again, _I_ knew _I_ liked _you_ way before 8th year. It was _you_ who took a long time," Baz teased, placing a gentle kiss on his nose. Simon just blushed. "But it doesn't matter, 'cause we ended up together, didn't we? It all worked out in the end."

"I know. I just . . . I keep thinking about all of the opportunities we missed. Like the dances. We could have gone to the yearly dances together," Simon said, almost seductively. His hands traced down the front of Baz's chest, playing with the flaps of his suit jacket.

"I would have liked that," Baz whispered.

"So would I," Simon replied.

And then they're kissing, their mouths hot against each other, hands grasping at hair and cheeks and waists. Their kiss is magic—more magic than any one mage could ever create. "I love you," Simon whispered against his lips, not willing to pull away.

"I love you, too. I always will," Baz replied, giving him one last peck before pulling back. Simon smiled as he settles down into a kitchen chair, Baz heading to the fridge. "Did you guys eat dinner?"

"Yeah, I made lasagna. There's some in there. Top shelf—no, the red container."

"Oh," Baz said, grabbing the tupperware. "Thanks, love."

"No problem." Baz went about reheating the food. As his plate turned in the microwave, Natasha comes downstairs.

She practically glided down the steps, a princess introducing herself to the world. Her dress was a whirl of purple silk and white lace, swirling around her long legs as she descended.

"Crowley," Baz whispered.

"Wow," Simon smiled. "Natasha, you look absolutely beautiful."

"Stunning, my dear," Baz agreed as she steps towards them. She embraced them both, nearly as tall as them in her heels. "Drew's a lucky guy." She rolled her eyes, but it was obvious she loved the attention. "I have a gift for you."

"What? Father, you didn't have to—"

"Well, I wanted to." Baz smiled as he headed towards a drawer in the kitchen. He pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box and handed it to Natasha. "These were your grandmother's. She got them for her Leaver's Ball. I think it's only fitting that you wear them tonight. She would've wanted you to have them." Baz had tears in his eyes, smiling at his daughter as she opened the box. Nestled inside were two gorgeous, black pearl earrings. Natasha gasped at them, eyes wide with surprise and honor.

She wrapped her arms around Baz. "Thank you, Father. I wish I could have known her."

"So do I," Baz said, tucking her gently into him, wrapping her against his chest. Simon placed his hand over Baz's and gave it a gentle rub of support. "Here, let's put them in."

Natasha nodded eagerly and sat down at the table. Baz expertly placed the earrings in her ears. "There. Absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you," she said, hugging Baz again. "And you too, Dad, even if you didn't get me anything," she laughed, embracing Simon.

"I didn't realize this was considered a holiday! Your birthday and Christmas are enough as it is," he joked.

Just then the doorbell ring. Natasha glanced at the clock nervously. It was only 6:52. "He's early," Natasha whimpered.

"That's okay. You're all ready, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?"

"I don't know. I'm nervous, I guess?" she said shyly, shrugging her shoulders.

"You'll be fine. It will be fun, I promise," Simon said, kissing the top of her forehead. "Now go get the door; don't keep him waiting!"

Natasha took a deep breath and scurried off to the door, Simon trailing behind her. Baz took a long sip from his mug before following them. Natasha, her hand on the door, now took another long breath. She looked to her parents for support; they both nodded enthusiastically. "Wait!" she said.

"What?"

"Father, you've got—," she said, gesturing to her lips, laughing.

"Oh," Baz said, embarrassed as he wiped a drop of blood off the corner of his mouth. "That would not have been a great first impression."

Natasha laughed and braced herself, opening the door. Simon snuck his arm around Baz's waste, comforting him. "Drew, hi!"

"Natasha. You look . . lovely," a voice gasped. The kid seemed to then compose himself as Natasha mumbled her thanks. "Sorry I'm early. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." Natasha stepped back as a tall, lanky kid stepped in the doorway. He had golden brown hair that swooped across his face and burning green eyes. He was dressed in a nice black suit (which Baz approved of) and stood confidently in front of them. "Dad, Father, this is Drew Laker."

Drew smiled wide, though obviously nervous, and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Natasha has told me a lot about you."

"As with you," Baz smiled, shaking his hand. Simon followed suit, though (rather uncharacteristically) stayed quiet. "Thank you so much for accompanying our daughter tonight."

"The pleasure is mine. Natasha is one of the kindest girls in school," he grinned, tilting his head to look at her. She blushed, her eyes glued on him.

"We're glad to hear that," Baz said. "I don't suppose you would let us get a few quick pictures of the two of you?"

"Father," Natasha groaned, embarrassed.

"That'd be great, actually. My mom actually asked me to make sure we got some," he laughs.

"Well we can make sure to send them to her."

"Thank you," Drew smiled. He guided Natasha over to a nearly empty wall and posed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Baz took out his phone and snapped some photos of them.

"Okay, now with me!" Simon blurted out, jumping into the frame. Natasha squealed, trying to shove him away, but Drew welcomed him into the shot. Baz couldn't stop laughing as he took a few pictures. "Switch!" Simon said, gesturing for Baz to take his place as he stole the phone from his arm. Baz grumbled as he stood next to his daughter in the photo, his hands on her shoulders.

"Do you want one of the three of you?" Drew asked, looking to the parents.

"No, that's okay—" Natasha started, but Simon was already handing Drew the phone. She grunted but posed between her fathers. Baz stood behind her with his hand resting on her shoulder. Simon wrapped an arm around her, practically hugging her. "Very cute," Drew smiled as the flash went off.

"Thank you for doing that," Natasha whispered to him, but both parents heard.

"Of course. They're your parents!" Drew shrugged as if it was that simple.

"Well, we should be going," Natasha said, anxiously rising onto her toes.

"Don't stay out too late, alright? Make sure you bring her home before midnight, Drew," Baz insisted.

"Yes, sir." Baz smiled at the "sir."

"Or at least text us if you're going to be later than that, okay, hon?" Simon added to Natasha. She just nodded, self-conscious of her protective fathers.

"I'll make sure she does."

"Thank you, Drew. It was a pleasure meeting you," Baz said.

"You, too," he said.

"Have fun, sweetheart," Baz said, pulling Natasha in close and kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too, Father."

"If there are scones there, please bring some back," Simon joked, giving his daughter one more hug. "And have fun. Remember what I told you?" he raised an eyebrow. Natasha did not remember whatever it is he told her—probably some really bad dancing advice—but went along with it. "Love you."

"Love you, Daddy. I'll see you in the morning."

And with that, Drew extended his arm and Natasha linked her arm through his. They stepped out the door and down the steps to Drew's car. Baz and Simon both pressed against the window to watch as Drew opened the door for Natasha, being a perfect gentleman. They watched as they backed up, Natasha giving them an annoyed yet pleased wave. And then they were gone.

The pair stepped away from the window.

"Well," Simon said in awe. "I guess that's it."

"What?"

"Our daughter's really growing up."

"I know," Baz said, circling his arms around Simon's waist. He pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "It seems like just yesterday we adopted her."

"Yeah," Simon said. He pressed his head under Baz's chin, resting it there against his chest. "Drew seemed nice."

"He's a Normal."

"So am I!"

"No, you're ex-mage. That's different."

"Oh, shut up," Simon laughed.

The two were silent for a moment, listening to each other's breathing.

"I like him," Baz said after a while.

Simon's head popped up. "You do?"

"Yes. He cares about her."

"He does."

"And she really likes him."

"I know."

"And I," Baz said, guiding the two of them towards the stairway, "really like _you."_

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it," Simon challenged.

"Oh, I will."


End file.
